


Happy Anniversary Surprise

by rijstkokerwritings



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Identity Reveal, Partnership, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rijstkokerwritings/pseuds/rijstkokerwritings
Summary: “I just can’t decide what’s more crazy. The fact that I know Chat Noir’s morning routine, like… what he had for breakfast, how he folds his socks.”“Or the fact that I know exactly how long it takes Adrien Agreste to do a triple backflip. Oh my god-” she has to take a deep breath, when new realization hits, “Adrien! You know how to do a triple backflip!”It's Adrien and Marinette's sixth anniversary. A 100% fluff reveal fic, with a side of platonic ladynoir.





	Happy Anniversary Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [powerdragonmoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/powerdragonmoon) and [highspeedearth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/highspeedearth/pseuds/highspeedearth) !

 

The plan was to tell her tonight.

On their fifth anniversary he takes Marinette to the rooftop of the Opéra, one of his favourite spots in the city. Normally, citizens don’t have access, but Chloe pulled a few strings and here they are, nipping champagne at a sunset VIP event. Marinette’s dark blue cocktail dress flutters in the warm breeze, gentle chatter behind them, her eyes sparkling with delight.

He can’t help but notice the place feels different when he is Chat.

As Chat, it’s just him and his partner hanging out on the golden roof ornaments at 3 am. The freedom to laugh and talk as loud as you want, watching the sparkling boulevards below. Close enough to the city so you feel part of a festive saturday buzz, but private enough to be yourself. To sing and dance in the dark and feel the warmth of the tiles seep through the back of your suit while stargazing.

He wants so badly to share all that with the love of his life.

He can’t complain, it’s still a magical evening. And it’s fun to wear something nice for a change instead of just plopping down in a sweaty heap post-akuma. Marinette’s heels make a happy tap tap on the tiles when she pulls him closer to the railing, a new sound he’s never heard in this place.

The plan was to tell her tonight. About Chat.

About this huge thing that’s part of his life seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, half a lifetime of extraordinary experiences and adventures and magical highs and lows. About how badly he wants her to meet Ladybug, his best friend and second most important person in his life.

But the summer evening is so nice, and Marinette giggles so beautifully, almost drops her glass off the railing, and something in him whispers ' _not yet'_.

It’ll be better without other people around, or at home. Why jeopardize the night of their anniversary?

(Another part of his brain mutters _coward_ . It sounds a lot like Plagg. He knows Marinette, he _knows_ she’ll react well. So why can’t he stop picturing a whole spectrum of worst case scenarios?)

His chest feels a little lighter as he gives in to the temptation of postponing a difficult task. They’ll have one last night of carefree celebration, without worry or nail biting or the great unknown outcome of confessing to half a decade of lying.

Maybe he’ll do it after that business trip she has end of the month. He concludes that there’s plenty of opportunity. Later.

 

\---

 

But after the business trip there is Alya’s surprise party. And then he gets the flu. And then _she_ gets the flu. And the month after that it is raining and foggy for three weeks straight. Then he has a big coursework deadline, and then she is busy again, and…

“Bug, have you told your significant other yet?”

Ladybug looks up to him in surprise from where she’s lounging on the rooftop beside him. “Nooo… You still haven’t either?”

“I want to...” He sighs “So badly.”

He lets his head drop in defeat, making a dull sound on the sheet metal roofing. She pats his leg in sympathy.

“Every time we conquer a challenging akuma, or... find a new cool rooftop. Or see something new and wonderful in Paris. I come home and she sees me smiling, all high energy, and she asks me what’s up, and I have to lie.”

“Same here. Gods, we decided it was okay to tell them like… last Christmas? We’re pathetic,” she huffs.

“Why exactly haven’t you told him yet? I’m just fishing for material to feel better about myself,” he adds half-jokingly.

She hums. “Well, I’m the same as you. I just keep finding flimsy excuses to postpone, so after awhile I figured there must be some bigger reason, right?”

He groans. “Yeah, exactly. If I have this burning need to tell her, then why haven’t I done it already?”

“I gave it a lot of thought,” she props herself up, “and I think in the end it’s… I have two needs that are equally important in my life right now. I need to tell him because I love him and some nights I can’t sleep because of the desire to share all of this with him. But I also need a guarantee that we’re gonna stay great next year, and the year after that... Chat, I don’t want to rock the boat.”

She collapses down again. “We’re doing so, _so_ great,” she says, hands folding on her chest. “I’m such an excellent liar, I surprise myself. And there’s like, zero tension, he never accuses me of holding back or compartmentalizing. Remember all those things I was worried about? Didn’t happen.”

“I don’t even feel guilty because the trust is so complete. It’s just... He has no idea that I have so much _more_ in my life. More joy, more beauty, more near death experiences, more…” she exhales. “More me, I guess?”

Two swallows fly by while they let that settle in. They watch the birds dive and swoop around in synchrony.

He rolls over to face her. “Once, I got the urge so strongly,” he confides, “I was _this_ close to showing up on our balcony as Chat and inviting her for a rooftop ride, consequences be damned. The view from the tower was so pretty, and I just thought… she should see this. With me.”

“But you didn’t?”

He picks at a groove in the roof with his claw. “I chickened out... It’s like you said, I’m too scared to mess up a wonderful thing. I ended up taking a picture for her instead. Wasn’t the same.”

She looks at him fondly.

“You love her very much, Kitty. I can tell you really have something wonderful going on with her.”

His heart swells at the thought of Marinette. “I do. I really do. Same as you and your guy.” Then he remembers the conversation topic, and exhales wistfully. He finally gives up on the groove.

They lie in silence, thinking of their loved ones waiting at home. The swallows chirp cheerfully, showing off their aerial acrobatics. Chat wonders if they have a nest close by.

“We make quite the pair of cowardly heroes, don’t we? Danger and supervillains no problem, but the prospect of an honest conversation with our significant other? Yikes.”

“With supervillain fights, I know what to expect,” Ladybug mutters besides him.

The birds swoop out of sight and don’t return.

“If I hadn’t had you,” Ladybug says after a while, “if this had been a solo superhero jig… I would have quit for the loneliness rather than the danger. I’d have lost my mind if I didn’t have you to talk about all this.”

He takes her hand in a comforting squeeze, showing that the feeling is mutual.

She squeezes back.

“We’re such a hot mess, Kitty. Nobody knows except you and me, but we are.”

“Hot? Definitely.” She lets go of his hand to give his shoulder a whack without looking. “Hot _mess_ , also definitely.”

He considers her chuckles a victory.

“You know, my Lady, all this could be easily solved by dating each other,” he winks, the line so old that at this point it’s a harmless insider joke for them. She reaches out to ruffle his hair while her laugh rings out in the evening.

 

\---

 

Sometimes Marinette amuses herself by trying to picture Chat as a civilian with his girlfriend. It’s fun because anything is possible with someone like Chat, and she can let her imagination run free.

One day he’s a stunt man, the next day a talk show host. Sometimes she pictures him as a neurosurgeon, going to glitzy fundraisers with his girlfriend who is equally dazzling and eccentric. It’s also fun because despite their years of partnership, and trusting him through and through, Chat is still a little surreal to her.

Sure, they talk plenty about their daily lives. She knows on a rational level he’s just a guy outside the mask. But seeing him stretch like a cat, or backflip off the highest beam of the Tower, it makes it hard to think of him, say, buying toilet paper.

She adjusts the jumbo pack of toilet paper under her arm. Waiting for the subway, a heavy grocery bag in each hand, she smiles thinking about him.

Her mind finds it easier to visualize him receiving gold medals at the Olympics, than doing his income taxes or waiting for the bus. His girlfriend must be an equal force of nature. She imagines her full of heart and jokes, exhilarating and maybe slightly theatrical, to mesh well with that silly kitty.

Maybe one day they’ll meet. She’d lose her little game of imagination, but it would be worth it. To see Chat’s other life which makes him so happy, to meet the person so important to him.

Chat and his mystery girlfriend already have a solid place nestled in her heart. She can feel it warm in her chest while getting on the subway, a smile at her lips. Maybe one day, they’ll have christmas dinners together, she’ll introduce this extraordinary couple to Adrien with no more secrets in the way, maybe invite Alya and Nino too… make it a potluck...

One day. No more secrets.

The subway takes off with a daydreaming Marinette on it, heading home.

 

\--

 

It’s their sixth anniversary, but she’s already an hour late to their restaurant reservation.

The Miraculous Cure hasn’t even finished its cleanup round before Ladybug is checking the time and her reflection in a car’s side mirror. She groans.

Her hair is full of gold-flecked pink glitter, top to bottom.

Experience has taught her that her clothes will be fine underneath the suit, but her hair is another story. The glitter cheerfully drifts down on her shoulders, her nose, the sidewalk, everywhere. It has an unnaturally strong smell of rhubarb.

She checks the car’s dashboard clock and thinks of the cute restaurant in Le Marais where she was supposed to meet Adrien fifty-three minutes ago. There is no way she can show up in public like this. Especially since no civilians got hit by the akuma’s glitter bombs, only her and Chat.

Could she? No she couldn’t. The glitter would get in their food. It would get in other people’s food. The whole restaurant would smell like rhubarb. There would be questions.

If she races at top speed to their apartment, washes her hair, accepts a dripping mess as her hair style for the evening and foregoes makeup retouches, she can be at the restaurant in twenty. She glances at Chat, his blond mop equally glittery. Despite his hurried air, he still sits down with the victim and gives him the post-akuma support talk, although the slightly abbreviated version she notices. Grateful for her partner, she turns in the direction of her shower and takes off as fast as she can.

 

\----

 

As soon as she touches down on her balcony, she detransforms, fishes her dead phone out of her pocket, runs to the bedside table and slams the power cord in. On the way over she already calculated the most efficient order of actions. If she charges first, she can text Adrien as soon as possible after her shower.

She’s half undressed, out of her stockings and perky anniversary dress, when she hears a thud in the living room.

Her first thought is _‘I don’t have time for this’_ , followed quickly by _‘Nobody except me can enter this apartment bypassing the front door’._

Followed by _‘Shit’_.

She double checks that Tikki is safe, exhausted in the discarded purse, now back on her hip. She checks her phone, which is charging at a miserable 2%. She takes a deep breath, and peeks through a crack of the bedroom door.

Adrien is standing in their living room, coat thrown half over the balcony railing, one shoe off. He’s cursing under his breath and struggling with his belt buckle which seems stuck in his hurry.

But his hair.

His hair is full of bright pink glitter, identical to her own except for the green-silver flecks.

Marinette can’t breathe.

In a daze she opens the door fully and steps in. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do, how to interrupt him. His head jerks up at her anyway and his movements freeze. For a few heartbeats, they just stare at each other with wide eyes.

“Marinette!” he croaks out.

“Adrien!”

“Why are you not at the restaurant?”

“Why are YOU not at the restaurant?!”

“I left you a message I was running late.” His hands haven’t left his buckle yet.

“My phone was dead. I was gonna message you as soon as it charged.”

“Wh- why are you in your bra?”

She feels like she forgot how to blink. “I was gonna take a quick shower. Why are you taking off your pants?”

“I… was gonna take… a quick shower,” he says slowly. He finally frees the belt from the death grip of his fingers, and carefully raises them in a placating gesture, like he’s calming a spooked animal. It might be to calm himself.

“You have pink glitter in your hair,” she whispers-shouts.

He swallows and simply uses one of his hands to point out the obvious in her hair.

She is unsure what to do. Part of her wants to scream, part wants to close the door and then scream, part of her wants to pinch herself and wake up. Instead she feels her body slowly approaching him.

“The lights were off. I thought nobody was home,” he whispers hoarsely.

She continues her trek across the room. “I was in a hurry. I forgot to turn them on,” she whispers back.

“If I’d known you were home, I wouldn’t have come in through the balcony.”

“How did you come in through the balcony?” she squeaks breathlessly. She’s now close enough to smell the glitter on his shirt, an unnaturally strong waft of granny smith apples.

Neither of them knows what to say next. He gently touches her hair, marvels at the glitter fluttering up at the contact. Some of it lands on his hand and mixes with the glitter already there.

This up close, she notices silver particles even in his eyelashes, sparkling in the evening light.

Then, he reaches for his breast pocket in slow motion.

Marinette chokes back a sob when the hand comes out cupping a small sleepy black blob. It has cat ears. And a tail. She can tell it’s alive by the gentle breathing in its tiny belly.

She gingerly touches it and it purrs happily, turning over to give more access. Marinette gasps and releases a too-loud throat noise at the same time, and suddenly there are happy tears falling down her cheeks. She produces her own red blob from her purse and puts the two sleeping kwamis together in his trembling hands, which she cups with her own. Only then does she dare to look back up to him.

His eyes are wet too, but his whole face is beaming like he’s seeing a miracle. There’s endearment and disbelief in his scrunched up eyebrows.

A shuddering breath comes out of his too wide smile. He tenderly moves the kwamis in one hand and uses the other to cup her cheek, draws her in for the strangest and most wonderful kiss in their relationship. It’s like coming home but experiencing every detail with new eyes. She revels in the familiarity of his touch, but also the novelty, like kissing him for the first time again.

‘ _This is Chat’_ she can’t stop thinking, and for some reason that makes her finally lose it.

Uncontrollable giggles end the kiss. She’s a hot mess of tears and wet glitter, clutching his face and touching his hair and not knowing where to start. Then she suddenly _has_ to grip him in a bear hug, and he squeaks and laughs and hugs her back even tighter while still holding the kwamis. They bounce up and down like the hysterical pair they are, in a cloud of weightless glitter that refuses to calm down.

When he sneezes, she laughs harder, flicks his hair out of the way and says “How about that shower, Chaton?”

His only response is to kiss her again.

 

\-----

 

Two hours later they’ve showered together, learned each other’s kwamis names, cancelled the restaurant and decided to postpone vacuuming the glitter carpet. Instead they hang out in the bedroom and avoid that part of the apartment all together.

They haven’t been able to take their eyes off each other for the most part, eating Chinese leftovers in their underwear in bed. She’s laughing to herself suddenly, a glint to her eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, amused.

“I just can’t decide what’s more crazy. That you- That…”

Another burst of giggles while she gestures at all of him with her chopsticks.

“The fact that I know Chat Noir’s morning routine, like… what he had for breakfast, how he folds his socks. Or the fact that I know _exactly_ how long it takes _Adrien Agreste_ to do a triple backflip. Oh my god-” she has to take a deep breath, when new realization hits, “Adrien! You know how to do a triple backflip!”

“Marinette! So do _you_!” In his big gesturing he sprinkles a bit of soy sauce on the bed, but nobody cares.

He’s grinning and biting his lip excitedly at the same time. His eyes are wide with marvel as he beams at her. “I happen to know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng can lift a medium sized delivery truck, but… only if it’s half loaded-” She gasps in fake indignation and tries to interject, like always when this anecdote comes up because _not fair_ \- but he shushes her by waving broccoli around.

“- And I know that _Ladybug_ …” He stops to think, wants to make it good, and she braces herself. “Ladybug…“ he whispers, leaning closer.

“... snores like a pig after she’s had three glasses of wine.”

She squeals and laughs and tries to hit him with a pillow, but he leans back while shouting “It’s a very cute snore! A tiny, adorable, cute baby pig!” He puts one index finger up like he’s giving a serious lecture. “But only after red. White makes her pass out like a silent angel.” He bops her on the nose with his finger and she lets him.

“Fine.” She picks up another spring roll.

“I know that the dashing, smooth, _fabulous_ Chat Noir is in need of new prescription glasses but he keeps forgetting his appointment because he’s an unorganized dork. And I know Adrien Agreste fell out of an exploding helicopter last week and couldn’t tell a soul about it, because that’s just how crazy our lives are.”

He puts down his bowl so he can rub her ankle with both hands.  

“Like… can you imagine? ‘Oh hi Marinette, how was your day? I just nearly fell to my death from cruising altitude. And me and Ladybug somehow survived thanks to the best hat trick combo-move of all time, yup, almost dislocated both my shoulders but still alive because of it, no biggie.’” He sighs at the memory, the frustration. She remembers a vague excuse about strained muscles at the gym.

“And I had to go home” he says, “and lie to you and hide my hands because they hadn’t stopped shaking yet, and we talked about… I forgot. The water bill? Laundry? I was so high on adrenaline, it was a bit of a blur to be honest.”

He absentmindedly starts massaging her calf. “I didn’t sleep at all that night. Lying to you was never more agonizing than that night. I just kept repeating in my head how unfair it was, how this is such a massive part of me, how superheroing is both the best and the worst moments of my life, the rooftops and the thrills and the craziness, and all of that and- and _I didn’t share it with you.”_

She simply smiles.

“But you did share it with me. Because I was there, remember?”

It’s now his turn to burst out in giggles. He puts containers to the side so he can wrap her into a tight hug, still laughing in her neck. She squeezes back fondly.

“If I remember correctly,” she says, “we talked about the internet bill that evening. And for your information, I was hiding my shaking hands too.”

He pulls back and his face is a little manic.

Marinette wonders how long this loop of shock and bafflement will continue until they fully come to terms with the situation. The minute she thinks her brain has organized the new information and settled it in with the existing pieces, someone seems to pick up the puzzle box and give it a good shake. It leaves her once again gaping like a fish with the realization that Adrien had been there, every minute of those adventures she couldn’t share with _Adrien_.

“Do you remember that T-rex?” he suddenly blurts out, like he just thought of it.

“Of course. Do you remember that _dragon_?”

“Please, as if I could forget. Most Badass Ladybug Moment of junior year. Do you remember that time we got warped to the 1880’s, and you had to save the Tower from being blown up before it even got built?”

“That was fun. I remember the angry mob who thought you were the devil.”

“What can I say, it must’ve been my devilishly good looks.”

“Pretty sure it was the eyes.”

“Yeah probably.”

“And the tail.”

“That too.”

 

\---

 

It becomes a self indulging game they keep playing till deep into the night. Asking the other about an event in the long history of Ladybug and Chat Noir, just for the joy of hearing them reply ‘ _I remember. I was there’._

Adrien almost chokes on his laughter when he learns about her colourful imaginations for Chat Noir’s mystery girl.

“Well, you were partly correct,” he wheezes. “You really are a force of nature. And I think lots of people would find designing at Gabriel a pretty dazzling profession,” he smiles adoringly.

“True, but. I literally picked up toilet paper today. And I just used these sheets as a napkin. I always figured we were the grounded couple, and Mr. and Mrs. Chat the fabulous ones.” She sticks her tongue out.

He pulls her closer for cuddles and more hair petting. “Sorry to tell you they don’t exist. If it makes you feel better, I always pictured Mr. Bug to be an airline pilot or like, a university professor. Someone stable who had his shit together.”

She pecks him on the lips. “I think we have our shit pretty much together, no?”

He grins back. “Sure, we’re decent, but Ladybug in my mind just had _WAY_ more shit, _WAY_ more together.”

Her silent response is just to hold up the sauce stained sheet with a raised eyebrow, and both succumb to snorts once more.

 

\---

 

Later, after the containers have been deposited besides the bed and the duvet pulled up, and they’ve gone through a emotional round of their favourite Ladybug and Chat photos on Adrien’s tablet while wrapped in each other’s arms, she offers “I’m really sorry, by the way.”

“For what?”

“I know this makes zero sense, but I still want to tell you I’m sorry for not being honest with you.”

He shifts so he can get a proper look at her.

“Bug, that makes no sense indeed. Did you already forget that I did the _exact_ same thing to you?“

“Of course not! But… I’ve thought about this confession, and all your possible reactions to it, for oh I don’t know, _years._ And it’s finally here and turned out a billion times better than my best case scenario, because, well, we got stupidly lucky.” She raises her finger which means ‘ _don’t you dare interrupt with a pun right now_ ’. Adrien fake-pouts on cue without missing a beat, the flawless routine sending another jolt of exhilaration to her gut.

“I got off the hook super easily, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still did a bad thing? The Adrien who I was scared of hurting, he doesn’t exist anymore.” She gestures vaguely to the room, the universe, this reality she’s still coming to terms with. “But he existed in my mind? For years?”

“So just sit there and pretend to be Honest-and-Helpless-Civilian!Adrien for a second so I can get my apology out, okay? Indulge me.” She can tell he’s suppressing a snort but his face also softens.

“Sure. But only if you return the favour and play stand-in for Civilian!Marinette. I’ve been very happily dating her for six years, and now she suddenly doesn’t exist. I could use some closure as well.”

“Deal.”

She sits up more straight, folds her hands in her lap.

“Adrien, I’m sorry I was too scared to tell you the truth. We will never know what your reaction would’ve been as a civilian, but I’m pretty sure I’ve underestimated your capacity of understanding.”

For some reason she can’t make eye contact. “I was terrified of even the tiniest risk of losing you. I was a coward and didn’t give you enough credit, and I was stuck in this lie for years and I’m sorry I wasted that time. We could’ve had each other, _all_ of each other, throughout university, and even before that...” she trails off. “Even without being my superhero partner, you’re my _life_ partner. I’m sorry.”

He scoops her up in a big hug.

“I forgive you,” he murmurs, then gently kisses her cheek. “I forgive you, Marinette.”

They sway slowly back and forth in the hug. She can feel tears prickle the back of her throat, the first in a night full of banter and laughing. Her chest is light and warm and overwhelmed with reassurance that things are alright. It settles deep in her belly, the fact that he _knows_ , and still, things are alright. More than alright.

“My turn,” he says, untangling their bodies.

“Marinette. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry for all the flimsy excuses and postponing. I’ve been making half hearted plans to tell you for the last four anniversaries, christmases, new years, birthdays. But if I’m completely honest, I don’t think I would have ever gotten the courage to do it. And if not for today’s akuma, we’d still be in this boat for another decade, because I just couldn’t work my way around my fear.” She takes both his hands, rubs her thumb on his knuckles in encouragement to continue. “Marinette, you deserve to be in a relationship with a whole person, not a half one, and I’m sorry for that. For not sharing everything with you. You’re the strongest person I know, superhero or not, and I should have trusted you.”

She brings his knuckles to her lips, kisses each hand softly. “I forgive you, Adrien.”

This time the hug turns into fierce kissing, which turns into slow kissing, and they don’t let go for a long time.

 

\---

 

Marinette turns off the bathroom light and dives back under the duvet, straight into Adrien’s waiting arms.

“Cold bug!” he quips.

“Warm kitty cat!” she nuzzles closer. “We really gotta fix that sink faucet.”

He purrs in lazy agreement.

“You know, I was thinking,” he muses. “A lot of imaginary people disappeared tonight. There is no Ladybug out there, tucked in her bed. No Mr. Bug next to her, reading the newspaper. No Chat and Mrs. Chat, firing up the Paris party scene with their wild debauchery and crazy dance moves.”

“Hey. Don’t make fun of my Mr. and Mrs. Chat fantasies,” she interrupts sleepily. “They are very dear to me.”

“Fine. They’re attending a Tuesday night fundraiser and driving the batmobile. Details don’t matter because they don’t exist.” She pokes him as punishment, but is too sleepy to make it effective. “And then poor helpless civilians Adrien and Marinette also went up in smoke. Those innocent souls.”

“That’s right,” she hums. “Nobody in this house is innocent.”

“Hah. So anyway, we went from six people to just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us,” she contemplates while playing with his hair. “It’s gonna take some time getting used to the concept. But I do love the sound of that, ‘just the two of us’.”

She parts his hair in experimental new ways. “Like the best aspects of all those people wrapped up in one package.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Civilians are a bore anyway.”

After a while she thinks of something.

“Actually, Mr. Bug could still be a university professor some day. You do love teaching.”

“But probably not like the one I imagined in my head. There was a lot of tweed involved.”

“Never say never, minou,” she yawns. “We could even- ” another yawn, “- get you a pipe and everything.”

“Har har. You say that now.”

He kisses her forehead, then gives her a peck on the nose for good measure.  “Okay, time for bed.”

They say goodnight to their kwamis, one last amazed look at them cuddled together on their little pillow, and then Adrien turns off the bedside lamp.

She feels him bury his face in her hair, his content purr rumbling through the room. There’s still a faint whiff of rhubarb and apple between them, a reminder of the crazy day that changed everything.

“Happy anniversary, my Lady.”

“The six year one, or the nine year one?” She knows he can feel her smirk, even in the dark.

“Both.” He sighs blissfully. “Definitely both.”

 

FIN

  


**Author's Note:**

> It's my first MLB fic! Let me know what you think!!!


End file.
